A House of Lies
by elphabathedelirious32
Summary: Post ROTS AU, no death, no suit. Padme is locked in Palpatine's mansion until she has her twins. Anakin wavers between good and evil. He is abusive and then doesn't remember
1. A Gilded Cage

A/N: I was bored last night, and so I started thinking, and I had all these really random thoughts about Star Wars, and then I made a story! Yay!

-What if Padmé lied to Obi-Wan and he never went to Mustafar- but she still did?

-What if Padmé realized, through her and Anakin's Force connection doohickey, that he might really hurt her and the unborn babies?

- So then, doing what she ought to have done if the screenwriter, George Lucas, et. al had any sense at all, she lied and told Anakin she would join him in his weird wanting-to-be-all-powerfulness, believing she could get him to restore the Republic? And, from that, comes this (spontaneous generation…ew, Biology…) Oh, Anakin's not in the suit. He's just being, as usual, a stubborn fool.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. Since we all know George Lucas does, if you read my A/N, you'd know that. throws a garbage can at Palpatine's head for no reason except, well, he's Palpatine.

I never expected to finish out my pregnancy like this. Not in secret…not in some far-off hospital… but here, in Palpatine's Naboo mansion. It is beautiful, richly appointed, and locked. A cage, no matter how beautifully wrought, is still a cage. You would think Anakin, of all people, would know this. But, then again, _Anakin_ is nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, _Vader_ is.

They- the _two _Sith- are afraid I will kill myself- kill us. Me and the babies. Yes, there are two. I finally had a medical examination, since Anakin- Vader- has pretty much broken so many rules of the Jedi that the secret that once ruled our lives is merely a petty infraction, in comparison to killing younglings and becoming a Sith. Palpatine rules our lives now. Strange, I still call him by his name. But that is because Palpatine and Sidious are both evil. The glimpses I still sometimes get of Anakin are good.

One more month until the babies are due. I am not going to kill us- again, something my Anakin should- would- know. I'm not leaving the galaxy this way, so ruined and oppressed. My children will not grow up in it- but they _will _grow up. I'm going to fix it. Suicide is cowardly, and I don't give up without a fight.

Besides, there's something else I have to fix. Anakin is still there, I can tell. I can see him in his eyes. He still looks the same- intense blue eyes, amazing smile- but his eyes flash yellow and his smile gleams like a knife.

Despite their lightsabers- darksabers?- their armies of clones, their Empire, I have at least some power over them- the Sith. I can threaten to jump out a window, tell Anakin he will cause his own nightmare to come true- and then, he really does become Anakin, crying and pleading, and yelling at Palpatine. He is a Jedi once again, protecting me, no matter what. But I, unlike _some_ people (named Palpatine) hate psychological manipulation. So, I don't do that, unless I think Anakin is slipping too deep into Vader. Then, I have to pull him back. It is my turn to protect him. But if I threaten suicide and he is not nearby, Palpatine has me locked in my room, with a guard. All I have to do is write in this journal. I don't know the date. I don't know how long I have been locked up, because Palpatine once drugged me so he could lock me up here. My beautiful planet is just outside the window, but I am kept from its dew-wet green meadows and cool blue waterfalls. It is a cruel punishment. But not nearly as cruel as the way I may be forced to watch my children grow up. But not if I have anything to say about it.


	2. Not Him

A/N: Why does no one review this story? It's one of my favorite ones that I've written. So…read it…review it. does Jedi mind trick You will read and review this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. Can you _try _ grasp that concept? (Who can tell me what movie that's from, which, btw, I also do not own?)

Anakin is not here. Vader is. He enters the room, I don't look up. Ignore him ignore him ignore him, and maybe he will go away and Anakin will come back. No such luck. I should have learnt that that trick doesn't work when I was five. Please, leave. I think hard. Maybe if I focus hard enough, I will wake up on Coruscant, the day Anakin is coming home. I will not let him fall asleep. I will not let him talk to Palpatine. I will do something, anything, and it will all turn out the way it was supposed to. I will be disgraced, but who cares? I was tired of being so good anyway, and that is a lie. I do not lie to Anakin, but to myself? My life is a lie.

"Padmé." I ignore him. I have schooled myself not to flinch or move at the sound of my name. It wasn't hard, given that not so long ago, 'Padmé' did not exist, though it was my real name. Velvety layers of interwoven lies to form a tapestry of secrets. It hangs in the palace. No, not really, but it might as well. The walls are paneled, the floors carpeted, with secrets. As it is here.

"Padmé, look at me." I won't, not until he makes me. He tries to use the Force to turn my head, I have long ago learned to resist it. It is not hard. The Force, I often suspect, is _forced_ as much as I am to bend to the will of the dark side. I think of it as a vulnerable power, good but used for evil… often like Anakin. No, I cannot think of him and look at Vader. They are separate in my mind, have to be, or I will go insane. Perhaps I am insane. It certainly sounds insane. Mr. Rochester's wife, locked in the attic. Ancient classic babble. I doubt Palpatine would even understand the reference. But I hid from my sister in the libraries of Naboo, any free time I had as Queen was spent in the Royal Library of Theed. The one in Theed had disc-books, but in my hometown, the library had only ancient books, in paper form, which I read and read and read.

"_Look_ at me!" He is frustrated now. He thinks he is powerful, yet simple disobedience angers him to no end. If he needs it to be secure, he is not powerful.

"Damn it, look at me!" He strides across the room. He _is_ in a mood today, which is why I simply ignore him, rather than appeal to Anakin. That will come later. He pulls me from the chair, tilts my head up. I pretend it doesn't hurt and close my eyes.

"Fine!" he spits out, releasing my head and slapping me. ItdoesnothurtdoesnotdoesnotisnotAnakinitisnothimIwillnotcrywillnotwillnot.

I try to do what I always do, jump out of myself, watch as he hits me and hits and hits and I cry, not matter how hard I try not to, but I can't and I am lying. It does hurt, when he hits me again and again, and not just physically, because it is him, somehow. And I will cry, I will plead because if I don't he'll forget again and hurt the babies. He's hitting my face, I don't care, but then he shoves me and I am down on the ground and he kicks. I feel one of the twins kick me in response.

"Anakin, no!" I yell. "Stop, you'll kill the babies!" He pulls his foot back…and he sinks onto the bed. He will sleep and wake up and be Anakin for a while. But if I tell him what he did he won't believe me. I need…proof, yes. Against him and his abuse and Palpatine. This house is full of lies and secrets…there must be something useful somewhere. But now…now I hurt. I stay on the floor, curl into as much of a ball as I can, what with my stomach, and let the tears come. I am flooded with pain.


	3. Ties That Bind or Padme's Chains

A/N: People, review my pretty stories or I will be forced to pull an Anakin!

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, for heaven's sakes. It's really not that difficult! (JK )

I was wrong. He wakes after only a few moments and he is not Anakin, not at all. He picks me up and chains me to the bedpost. I try to fight, but he is so much bigger than I am and I don't exactly have a great range of movement what with being nine months pregnant and all. He chains me there, he slaps my face, and he briefly leaves the room. I hear him stomp down the corridor and hear him return. He holds something in his hand; I can't see what it is. He turns, an evil thing that is not a smile twisting his face, and he ignites the tiny light-dagger, and then he grabs my chained arm and brings the knife closer. I scream and try to twist away but I can't and what is he going to do to me now how much more of this can I take and it is fire, tracing up my arm into my shoulder and then coursing through my body. I feel the fire-pain take shape. V….and then I know what he is doing and anger, hotter fire than that branding my arm, burns through my soul.

"Anakin!" I scream. I know what his dream of my death was, and I make my voice sound like that. I want to stop him, I want to hurt him.

"Don't call me that," he says, and memory swishes through me. He told me, when he was nineteen, not to call him Ani. Then, I became the only one who could or would or did.

"Anakin Skywalker, you are a hypocrite," I tell him, ignoring the pain, dulling now. I will not look at it. I turn my eyes to his, let them burn him. "You would do to another- many others- what you had done to you. You have spent your life casting off your slavery. Now, will you become what you once hated the most? _Another_ thing you once hated?" His blue eyes flicker, Vader-Anakin, Anakin-Ani, 22-19-9.

"I hate- weakness!" he screams, and hurls me as far as the chain will let me go.

"Ani! For heaven's sake, the babies!" I cry, afraid he will dash me against the footboard and kill them, or one of them, or hurt them.

He looks at me again. His eyes are full of sadness. He kneels beside me, and gently I float to his side. He holds me and the twins in me, and we are a tiny little remnant of the family we may never get to be.


	4. Cuts

A/N: GILMORE GIRLS ROCKS LUKE SAID YES OH, I AM INSANE WOO-HOO LE FREAK CE CHIC FREAK OUT (don't even ask). My insane friend and I are having an engagement party for Luke and Lorelai at her house with coffee, pie, and fries. And unless you're "multi-faceted abnormal" like me with my "strange passions", you'll have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. So ignore me and just read the story.

Disclaimer: You know, George Lucas screens my calls cause he doesn't want to talk about trading ownership of Star Wars for ownership of my math homework anymore. Some people. Sheesh.

After all the pain, the branding, and the knife-fire in my arm spreading to my soul, he leaves. He is gone for several hours, hours in which I fall in and out of sleep, still chained to the bedpost, until I hear his footfalls in the hallway and wake, become alert.

There is no apology, no acted shock, no pretended amnesia. _Anakin_ is still gone, it is Vader that releases my chains and grabs me, kisses me roughly, pulls his hands harshly through my hair-

"I love your hair," he whispers, and it is so ridiculous I almost laugh but what is there to say? He has, after all, locked my soul deep in where it is hidden, and when it comes out he hits hits hard pushes slaps breaks me till it falls back into place. He kisses me again, I am going to be sick, violently sick. I wrench myself from him, run for the bathroom, and heave into the toilet. Ashamed, I turn and look at him. His face is dark with anger, eyes flash yellow. Tense fear hits me, adrenaline flows, it feels like a punch to my stomach, and believe me, I can tell. He grabs my wrist, with his initial carved in it, more fire dances up my arm as he pulls me toward the bedpost and chains me there again. He slaps me once and shoves me against the bedpost. He leaves angry when I don't cry, whimper, or react. He leaves, preferring to be near the soldiers who cower like beaten dogs simply at his passing. He cannot stand it when I look him in the eye.

He loves my hair, does he? He has left me his knife. I hold it mere centimeters above my bruised wrist, considering the fragility of three lives. One slip and- but no, killing myself and my twins would be awful, for more than the obvious reasons. Palpatine would win. Anakin would be bound to him forever. Anakin would never see his dream disproven. Anakin- Anakin would be wholly consumed by Vader.

So I don't kill myself. I neatly braid my hair, take the knife, and hack it off just above my shoulders. Wild brown curls fly about my face in crazy spirals as they free themselves from the braid. I wish my freedom would come as easily. I look down at the brand he has made on my forearm. V, Vader. I take the knife, and, wincing, draw a tiny line bridging the two sides of the V. Looking from the other side, it is A.

Anakin. My husband.


	5. Another World

A/N: Heh heh heh. Homework? What's homework? Hmmm. I think it's this. My teachers may not agree but that's their freakin' problem. I don't think school is constitutional. People die in schools. They get shot. Why should we be incarcerated in a place where we could be killed for four years simply by virtue of our age? I want my habeas corpus and due process, dammit! (Rant over. Please take into consideration that in the past 2 hours I have had 3 caffeinated drinks).

Disclaimer: Fine, George Lucas. _Don't_ trade ownership of Star Wars for my math homework then. Geez.

He leaves me here for hours. I sleep again. I have tried to cut through the chains with the knife, but I can't. I wait and wait for someone to come. Three hours later, he returns. He looks at me, takes in my shorn, disheveled hair and bruised, reddened face, and curses. He comes over to me, gently releases me and notices my wrist. Bruised and branded. He pulls me close and I tremble, unsure whom I am facing.

"Who did this to you?" he asks. Anakin. Anakin, thank God.

"Darth Vader." I say. He draws back, shocked.

"You…you mean…me?" He is shaken, disbelieving. Tremulously, I nod. His eyes cloud with confusion. He reaches out to touch the mark on my wrist. "But…I don't…I can't remember!" he cries. He embraces me. "Oh, God, Padmé, I am so sorry. I- it isn't me- that's no excuse…Angel, I'm sorry. I can't…I won't do it again…"

"It's not you that's done it, Ani," I say, absolving him as always. "It's Darth Vader." His eyes darken and then clear.

"It's Palpatine that's made me this way," he says darkly. "He's doing something to me, messing with my mind, my memories, my _identity_…" he trails off. "But it's still my fault. I- I don't want to have to do this but- there's a dinner party tonight. Here. And Palpatine wants us to be there." I know what he is thinking as his eyes take me in again. _How could anyone see her and not know? _ "He'll send someone here to get you ready."

A few minutes later, 'someone' arrives. A Naboo girl, who could have been one of my handmaidens. She treats me as though I were a child, however. I wish I could tell her I have never been one. Maybe for two years. More, I wish I could say, just because a woman is going to _have_ a child- or in my case, children- doesn't make her one too. But I don't. She draws a bath and puts flower petals and fragrant oils in the water. She cleans the brand and dresses it. She brings a maternity dress, violet silk with an empire waist adorned with embroidered flowers. Silently, I curse the dressmaker's term- empire. I highly doubt this is a coincidence. She trims the rough edges of my hair till it is even. Cutting it has lessened its weight and thus made it even curlier than before. She straightens it to make it appear longer, and brushes it until it lies in silky waves. She pulls some of it back with an ornate barrette. She covers the bruise on my face with makeup. A pity, I think dryly. It matched the dress. When she is finished, I look wonderingly into the mirror. I look healthy and happy and glowing, not at all like the abused and tortured woman that I am. Funny thing, about this Empire. No one in it shows their real face. Some don't even know what face that is.

Anakin comes into my room to fetch me, and yes, he is still Anakin. He looks uncomfortable in the formal clothes, strange. His golden hair is brushed, for once, and it lies flat. He smiles at me, take my hand, and leads me toward the stairs. From them, I can see all the people below- clinking glasses, laughing, talking heatedly over trivial matters. I am not of their world. It is surreal. I am sure they think I am ethereal, not quite there, and they are right. I have left that world behind on Mustafar, when Anakin changed into someone else and tried to kill me.


	6. Trapped

A/N: Heh heh heh. Homework? What's homework? Hmmm. I think it's this. My teachers may not agree but that's their freakin' problem. I don't think school is constitutional. People die in schools. They get shot. Why should we be incarcerated in a place where we could be killed for four years simply by virtue of our age? I want my habeas corpus and due process, dammit! (Rant over. Please take into consideration that in the past 2 hours I have had 3 caffeinated drinks).

Disclaimer: Fine, George Lucas. _Don't_ trade ownership of Star Wars for my math homework then. Geez.

He leaves me here for hours. I sleep again. I have tried to cut through the chains with the knife, but I can't. I wait and wait for someone to come. Three hours later, he returns. He looks at me, takes in my shorn, disheveled hair and bruised, reddened face, and curses. He comes over to me, gently releases me and notices my wrist. Bruised and branded. He pulls me close and I tremble, unsure whom I am facing.

"Who did this to you?" he asks. Anakin. Anakin, thank God.

"Darth Vader." I say. He draws back, shocked.

"You…you mean…me?" He is shaken, disbelieving. Tremulously, I nod. His eyes cloud with confusion. He reaches out to touch the mark on my wrist. "But…I don't…I can't remember!" he cries. He embraces me. "Oh, God, Padmé, I am so sorry. I- it isn't me- that's no excuse…Angel, I'm sorry. I can't…I won't do it again…"

"It's not you that's done it, Ani," I say, absolving him as always. "It's Darth Vader." His eyes darken and then clear.

"It's Palpatine that's made me this way," he says darkly. "He's doing something to me, messing with my mind, my memories, my _identity_…" he trails off. "But it's still my fault. I- I don't want to have to do this but- there's a dinner party tonight. Here. And Palpatine wants us to be there." I know what he is thinking as his eyes take me in again. _How could anyone see her and not know? _ "He'll send someone here to get you ready."

A few minutes later, 'someone' arrives. A Naboo girl, who could have been one of my handmaidens. She treats me as though I were a child, however. I wish I could tell her I have never been one. Maybe for two years. More, I wish I could say, just because a woman is going to _have_ a child- or in my case, children- doesn't make her one too. But I don't. She draws a bath and puts flower petals and fragrant oils in the water. She cleans the brand and dresses it. She brings a maternity dress, violet silk with an empire waist adorned with embroidered flowers. Silently, I curse the dressmaker's term- empire. I highly doubt this is a coincidence. She trims the rough edges of my hair till it is even. Cutting it has lessened its weight and thus made it even curlier than before. She straightens it to make it appear longer, and brushes it until it lies in silky waves. She pulls some of it back with an ornate barrette. She covers the bruise on my face with makeup. A pity, I think dryly. It matched the dress. When she is finished, I look wonderingly into the mirror. I look healthy and happy and glowing, not at all like the abused and tortured woman that I am. Funny thing, about this Empire. No one in it shows their real face. Some don't even know what face that is.

Anakin comes into my room to fetch me, and yes, he is still Anakin. He looks uncomfortable in the formal clothes, strange. His golden hair is brushed, for once, and it lies flat. He smiles at me, take my hand, and leads me toward the stairs. From them, I can see all the people below- clinking glasses, laughing, talking heatedly over trivial matters. I am not of their world. It is surreal. I am sure they think I am ethereal, not quite there, and they are right. I have left that world behind on Mustafar, when Anakin changed into someone else and tried to kill me.


	7. A Policy on Traps

A/N: I love my title for this chapter. It so rocks. I've had three cups of caffeine today. Wheee. Ooh, my dad's asking people if they want lattes. Latte, latte, I want a latte! Oh, btw, back to Padmé's POV.

Disclaimer: Fine, George Lucas, don't answer the phone then. Jeez.

I slip in and out of darkness. In the night-dark forests of my mind, I am alone and lost. I cry out, searching for Anakin, and for the twins. Luke and Leia. I hear, when my consciousness briefly returns, Anakin pacing back and forth, sometimes even crying. I hear Palpatine admonish him, trying to get him to return to Vader, but he just throws something across the room and ignores the Sith Lord. I try, try so hard to speak, to let him know I'm all right, but the sound will not come, and if I try too hard I slip back into the darkness. Finally, though, I manage-

"Ani- I- love-you…" and then I fall.

I am running and so afraid. Howls and night-sounds come from the shadowed trees. There is no light, none at all, merely the dark of the night and the darker tree-shapes. The forest canopies me, obscuring moon and star light. I stumble on a tree root and fall to my knees. Pain shoots through my left ankle, I cannot get up. I am doomed. I will be lost forever in this eternal night. I sob, give voice to all my pain. And then, then a ray of silver light- and a hand, reaching out to me. I look up, and it is Anakin. His blue eyes shine with only love, no rage. He reaches out and pulls me out, and I wake up.

The next day, we are leaving. Palpatine is waiting in the ship when Obi-Wan jumps out of the bushes. Anakin yells.

"Shut up!" says Obi-Wan, grabbing us each by one arm, despite that we are each holding a twin.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You're a criminal! I ought to kill you!" says Anakin.

"I'm rescuing you, you idiot. What did you think?"

"Rescuing….from what? I'm not the traitor here!"

"Yes, you are."

"Anakin, stop fooling yourself. We're trapped, both of us, you as much as I am, locked in a room. You're locked in your mind." I say. Obi-Wan smiles at me.

"And I have a policy on traps," he says. "Springing them."


	8. Why Don't You Hate Me?

A/N: Wow, I left this story for a while, didn't I? Oh, well. My friend who has this odd theory that my friend Jeff and I have to date each other because in her skewed world, I look like Padmé (yeah, right, I wish) and Jeff looks like Anakin (excuse me while I scream "GET GLASSES!" at my friend) is in random theory heaven today. Jeff and I have this bit about our "inner Sith Lords" and I expressed skepticism that he had one since I've never 'met' his inner Sith, and he said he hopes I never do because "it would turn into the landing pad on Mustafar." For some reason, Amanda thinks that's a _good _thing. She needs to SHUT UP or I'm going to be forced to introduce her to my inner Sith Lord…not a pretty sight…

Disclaimer: Yes, I do realize George Lucas owns Star Wars…really, I do. begins twitching and falls off chair.

"What?" I am in shock. Does he mean what I think he means? He can't. But he's here, he's trying to convince Anakin to come back. I told him Obi-Wan would help, that he cared. But he wouldn't listen. I also told Mace Windu Count Dooku was the one trying to kill me. If only he would have listened, none of this would have happened, and everything would be so much…worse. No, even now, battered and bruised physically and mentally, I do mean that. I would rather have had the three good years with Anakin, even if it meant all of this, and my little twins, even if they have to grow up in that house of lies. Our lives, looking back on it, are entwined impenetrably and balanced upon a precarious pile of coincidences, and if even one hadn't happened, we would be somewhere far from where we are today.

"Anakin, look at yourself. You're not in control of your own mind half the time, and you've already hurt Padmé. Do you know how easy it would be for you to turn into Vader and shake one of these babies to death…snap their necks…smother them…just for waking you up by crying?" Obi-Wan says. Anakin's face is white.

"I won't do that," he says tightly. "Now, I suggest you leave." No, he can't leave! There is a door, a way out, a beam of light shining in the dark captivity of my life, hope, beautiful hope I thought was lost forever- I cannot let that disappear!

"Anakin, I believe _you_. I know _you _won't hurt them, but you…sometimes you aren't you. You're a Sith, you're Vader, and Anakin is gone, I can tell. And then you don't even remember what you do…" I say, trailing off at the look on his face.

"I did that once!" he says.

"No, Anakin, you did it every day. You never knew it."

"You lie!" he yells. No, no, please God no, he's said those words before. He's teetering on the edge of himself. Don't slip, Ani, please don't slip. _It cannot be a lie if there is proof to the contrary_, a teacher told me once.

"No, Anakin. _I _don't lie." Slowly, I unbutton the top button of my high-necked dress. A necklace of violet bruise-jewels encircles my throat. I button the dress again and then reach down, tugging it up to expose my ankle. An angry bruise, obviously from a kick, stares Anakin's denial in the face. He looks emotionless, devoid of thought, for a moment, and then he sobs. He breaks down. Obi-Wan takes Luke from him, and Anakin crumples to the ground. I hand Leia to Obi-Wan and sink down beside him.

"Ani, it's all right," I say.

"Why don't you hate me?" he asks.

"Because it isn't you," I answer honestly. Vader does not equal Anakin.

"You should hate me anyway! Everyone hates me! They should! They should form a club and kill me! Somebody kill me!" he yells at two passersby, who speed up, frightened.

"Ssh, Ani. Calm down. There's a way out. We could go with Obi-Wan… we could leave right now."

"No, we couldn't," says Anakin, coming back to himself.

"Why not?"

"The twins are too young. Padmé's too weak. You don't have a ship, we'd have to walk at least some distance, and she can't do that. Besides, even if she did, we'd attract too much attention here." He says.

"Why?" asks Obi-Wan.

"Well, everyone on this planet knows Padmé. And you and I, Obi-Wan, everyone in the galaxy knows us. Kenobi and Skywalker." He sighs ruefully.

"And the twins- the clones will be on the lookout for twins. For us- the formerly famous Jedi team, and the planet's beloved Senator-queen, and twin infants. Of course, we'll blend right in."

"Well," says Obi-Wan. "The Rebellion could use someone on the inside…"


	9. Twilight Skies

A/N: I know I've been neglecting this story of late. Take it up with the inventor of high school and homework, otherwise known as Palpatine.

Disclaimer: Well, George Lucas has declined to trade ownership of Star Wars for my math, English, French, history, current events, biology, AND gym homework (yes, homework in gym. What did I say about Palpatine having invented it?) so I've got nothing left to give.

Anakin looks like he's wrestling with his two selves, and I know he is. I know Vader is screaming, "Kill the Jedi, run to Palpatine, tell him about the Rebellion, crush it, stamp it beneath your heel, kill it!" and Anakin is shouting back, "No, don't! Don't kill Obi-Wan! He's the closest thing you have to a father! Do what he says, you know it's right, you know it'll help people!" He has a devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other. And that's about to become literal. I come up closer to him, put my head beside his, and whisper, "Freedom," then move away. I know he will know what I mean- all the things I mean- all the connotations that word has for us. I know is has some associated with the Sith, but even more with the light side. I reach out for what we have between us, and I think-whisper all of them to Ani-

_Qui-Gon, freedom, sleek silver starship, cold nights, scarlet silk, racing pods as fast as you can, so fast maybe you can leave all of it behind, visit every star in the galaxy, every one _free _and _unique_, diverse and different. Liberty, freedom, sovereignty, your own jurisdiction…justice. _All, in my mind, synonyms. I pull him back with me_, meadows lakes islands sunsets fields space stars dreams love hope peace us apart but before that golden domed roofs waterfalls forest green wet swamps and space then scarlet silk and talks late at night, and a funny-serious little boy with eyes not so little and a premonition about us he knows is true. Unlike the other, that caused all of this and is now blatantly untrue, for look here I am, here are the twins alive and safe and fine. So why stay with the Sith, Ani? _

He looks at me, not at Obi-Wan, blue eyes clear as the twilight summer skies of Naboo, the same eyes that looked at me, seriously, thirteen years ago, as he informed me that we were going to be married, and that he wouldn't always be a little boy, and then the eyes that laughed, twinkling, as he played dead in a golden field, before bursting into gales of hilarity and pulling me away from duty and ambition and into a wondrous world where everything was golden and shining and new, even when you had seen it a thousand times before.

"Yes," he said slowly, still looking at me, "I suppose they could."


End file.
